


Drip

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Twincest, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: Jeremiah feels a hand on his cheek, warm and sticky. "We'll never love anyone else."
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	Drip

**Author's Note:**

> Broken baby twins. They're seven in this.
> 
> I tried to do something a little different. Let me know if it worked out okay!
> 
> Love goes out, 
> 
> ~ jam 💙

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

It's an endless echo within his mind. Droplets of red trickling down and staining the grass, an eery harmony between red and green.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Jerome is smiling at him, a rather loose grip around the kitchen knife. The sun is going down, causing a flash of metal when it hits, sudden, gone in the blink of an eye, as quickly as the flap of a butterfly's wing.

The blood doesn't flash. It sticks and yet drips steadily from the tip of the blade. It's too loud in Jeremiah's ears.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Remember what we promised each other, Miah?", Jerome asks and he sounds so casual, like yesterday when he asked Jeremiah what he wanted to eat. _Hot dogs_ , Jeremiah said, _can we have hot dogs?_ And Jerome smiled as he caressed his cheek, _course we can_ , and he proceeded to steal some from the chuck wagon, slipping past their unconscious uncle without him ever knowing. He even managed to snatch a cookie for Jeremiah. 

Mommy forgets. She always forgets to leave food or money for them. Jerome has to steal often. 

Jeremiah feels a hand on his cheek, warm and sticky. "We'll never love anyone else."

 _Drip. Drip. Drip_ _._

He only realizes that he stopped looking at Jerome when he gently makes him meet his gaze. There's a spark in his eyes Jeremiah can't place. Jerome's thumb rubs over his cheekbone. "You can only love me", he whispers and Jeremiah isn't sure what prompts it but he shifts his gaze to look over Jerome's shoulder at the tiny figure laying in the grass, a fuzzy ball of white fur.

Although not as white anymore.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Jeremiah found the kitten three days ago, or rather, it found him, near the entrance of the big top. He was drawing - like he always is - sketchbook in his lap and pencil in hand. It was going to be another maze and Jeremiah remembers how focused he was, trying to draw the lines as straight as possible without a ruler, when something bumped against his hand and made him slip. The kitten was purring as it nuzzled against him, its head barely as big as Jeremiah's palm.

He took it home with him. He fed it and pet it and showed it to Jerome, smiling as he held the kitten as gently as he could, his tiny heart heavy with joy, _look, Jerome, look!_ He couldn't wait to see Jerome's reaction, he couldn't wait for Jerome and the kitten to become friends. 

But Jerome didn't say a word. And he didn't smile back.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

There's pressure against his cheek as Jerome forces his head back. He's frowning, his jaw tight and cheeks flushed. He looks angry now. "You only love me. Don't you, Miah?"

He can feel it. The kitten nuzzling against his hand, the gentle vibrations of its purrs against his chest. Something pulls, pulls his chest tight and it's getting hard to breathe. 

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Jerome is still waiting for an answer. Jeremiah thinks he looks different, there's a shadow looming over his face and the spark in his eyes is gone. He's not angry anymore. His bottom lip is trembling. He looks afraid.

Jeremiah wonders if the kitten was afraid.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Jeremiah nods. He doesn't trust himself with speaking so he nods. He hopes it's enough.

It's not. "Miah?"

He hears a dull thumping sound and assumes that Jerome dropped the knife because now, he's using both hands to grip Jeremiah's face. It hurts. But not his face.

Its his chest. His chest hurts, he still can't breathe and all of a sudden he's so, _so_ cold. Jerome's hands on him don't feel good like they usually do. Jeremiah's face itches from the drying blood. He preferred it when it was still liquid.

_Drip, Drip, Drip._

"Just you and me, remember? We'll always be together and when we're grown-ups we'll get married and live in a mansion together. Together, just you and me. We don't need anyone else, yeah? We don't _want_ anyone else. You promised, Miah. You promised."

Jeremiah did promise. He remembers, of course he does. And he wants it still, more than anything else in the world, he loves Jerome more than anything else in the world. He tries to look over Jerome's shoulder again but Jerome doesn't let him, holds his face even tighter, almost smushing it, he's so close, Jeremiah's nostrils fill with a sharp, metallic smell that makes him dizzy. 

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Jeremiah found them a new friend. That's all it was. A new friend for them both. He didn't mean it like that. Why didn't Jerome say anything? The kitten would've liked him, Jeremiah _knows_ it.

Why couldn't Jerome like the kitten? 

"Say it, Miah."

It had such pretty white fur. The red doesn't fit. It's too dark. It's not natural. Not natural. Not - 

Not _normal_. 

This isn't normal, none of it. Jeremiah hates thinking that because it's what Mommy always says, and what Uncle Zack always screams, _not normal, weird, freak._ They make Jerome hurt inside and do bad things. 

Jeremiah doesn't want Jerome to hurt inside. He doesn't want him to do bad things. He doesn't want to be like them but if he's _thinking_ like them then that means - 

"Say it. Say it", Jerome begs, his voice thin and trembling. Jeremiah looks at him, really looks at him and his eyes catch on a small, purple spot beneath his shirt collar, a tiny glimpse of a bruise that stretches widely over Jerome's body. It's one of many. Uncle Zack gave it to him just this morning because Jerome wasn't picking up his empty beer cans fast enough. 

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

Jeremiah lifts his hands, ice-cold fingers wrapping around Jerome's wrists. "I love you, Jerome", he whispers. His voice doesn't sound like his own. More breath than sound, tiny and empty. It feels wrong. He doesn't want to sound like that, not when he's telling Jerome he loves him.

But he doesn't want to tell Jerome he loves him. Not right now. He's only telling him because he has to. It feels horrible. Jeremiah feels horrible. 

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Only you." Jeremiah's eyes slip closed. He's so tired. His mind is a blur of green and white. And red. He wants it to stop. He's so, so tired.

"Phew!"

It's like a switch was flicked. Jeremiah finds himself against Jerome's chest, Jerome's arms around him, tight and warm. Jeremiah wants to sink into it like he always does, wants his big brother to make him feel safe like he always does.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Ya really had me worried there for a sec!" Jerome grabs him by the shoulders and holds him at an arm length. The spark is back in his eyes and he's grinning, bright and happy.

His shirt has slipped to the side a little, revealing more of the bruise. Jeremiah's heart aches. "My face feels itchy."

He's not sure why he says it. It just feels like he needs to say something. 

Jerome hums in sympathy, quickly taking Jeremiah's hand in his and pulling him with. "Let's take a shower! I'm gonna make sure you're squeaky clean! And afterwards we'll get candy apples! Ya want a candy apple, Miah? A chocolate one? Oh, and I'll tell the bedtime story tonight! The one about the snake twins! You love that one, right, Miah?"

Jerome is bouncy and bubbly again, his grip on Jeremiah's hand tight but not unpleasantly so. What makes it unpleasant is the stickiness.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

The kitten is still back there, laying on the grass. All alone. Jeremiah wants to hold it, just one last time. He wonders briefly if he can tell Jerome that.

* * *

They shower in silence. It's strange. Usually they'll chat and laugh and throw bubbles at each other and Jerome will tickle Jeremiah until he's curled up on the tiles, laughing so hard that he's crying.

Jeremiah wants that. But he can't even bring himself to look Jerome in the eye.

He's focused on the bruises. The cuts. The burns. He should be used to seeing them, he sees them every day. But something is different now. Jerome always shrugs them off, _no biggie_ , he says, _I can take it_.

Jeremiah believed it. He truly believed that there's nothing their mother or uncle could do that could ever have a lasting effect on Jerome.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

"Miah?"

Jerome is gently shampooing Jeremiah's hair. It gave Jeremiah an excuse to close his eyes. "Ya mad at me?"

Jeremiah wants to say yes. He thinks he should be mad. Jerome killed the kitten. He killed Jeremiah's kitten.

Jerome is rinsing out his hair, his fingers careful as they thread through his curls. He's so gentle. He's always so gentle with Jeremiah, even though nobody is ever gentle with him.

Except Jeremiah.

Something inside of him breaks. He doesn't think his voice is going to obey him so he makes a tiny little noise, _no_. No, he's not mad. He still aches for the kitten but it makes him sick now, it makes him sick that he attempted to make room in his heart for something else when _Jerome_ lives there, only Jerome.

There can never be anyone else. Jeremiah understands that now. 

Jerome's hands cup his cheeks and make him look up. Jeremiah isn't wearing his glasses and the running water makes it even more difficult to see but Jerome is close enough. He looks sad and...lonely. Jeremiah's heart clenches.

"Ya mean it?" Jerome leans forward, their foreheads touching. "I still get to be your husband?"

There's something about his tone of voice that throws Jeremiah off. He hasn't heard Jerome sound like this since they were five. It's the tone he used with Uncle Zack during the punishments, when he was curled up into a ball on the floor, crying and hiding his face behind his hands. 

He's pleading. 

"Yes." Jeremiah's voice comes out as a sob. He wraps his arms around Jerome's neck, pulling him closer, their naked bodies pressed flush against each other, two identically broken little boys, one bearing scars on the outside, the other on the inside." Yes, yes, _yes_. I love you so much, Jerome. I'm sorry."

He means it. He means every word, the kitten banned from his mind, no more blur of green and white and red, replaced by a freckled face and fluffy red hair and shiny teeth behind a bright grin. His everything. His world.

 _Jerome_. 

Jerome exhales against his face, dropping his hands from Jeremiah's face to wrap his arms around his waist instead. "I love you too, baby bro. It's okay." 

The shower is still running, droplets of warm water raining down on them, creating an endless echo within Jeremiah's mind.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._


End file.
